


Where The Wild Things Are

by Vulcanodon



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Daemons, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-01 02:09:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2755616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vulcanodon/pseuds/Vulcanodon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daemon AU. </p>
<p>When the dead rose, their daemons didn't come back with them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't read the His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman a daemon is a physical manifestation of your soul that takes the form of an animal. You don't have to have read that to understand this however. If you have any questions regarding this universe/people's daemons etc. then please comment. I love any and all feedback and I have spent way too much time thinking about this.

They kept the animals in a separate wing in the detention centre. During the day you could almost pretend they weren’t there. At night you could hear them though, lying awake in the dark, the growls, barks, bird calls. Nobody would talk about it but for some it was like a constant itching under the skin. There was a girl down in the lower wards that had gone mental, people said. Kept swearing it was her daemon she could hear out there. That he was calling to her.

  
Kieran didn’t like the nights.

  
It was government policy now, to assign a substitute for each of the Risen. For maintaining the calm of the public the leaflets had said. Kieren could see the necessity. There was something inherently wrong about seeing someone separated from his or her daemon. Something twisted and not quite right, almost obscene. To go out now, to walk down the street alone, would be as good as holding a sign with the word ROTTER on it.

You could always pretend that your demon was too small to be seen of course, carry around a matchbox and pretend to check on it from time to time. And of course it wasn’t really fooling anybody. But it looked right. It said, I’m a freak but look I’m trying. I won’t cause any trouble, promise.  
On the day Kieren was released he stood in line with all the others.

  
 _What colour were your eyes?_  
 _Was she a Bird, reptile, mammal?_  
 _Was she big, medium or small?_

  
_Brown,_ Kieren had said. _Mammal. Medium._

  
He doesn’t have to say her name and that helps a little. He doesn’t want to say it out loud here in this place with its cold stone floors and itchy trigger fingers.

  
They assign him clothes, a cover up kit, contacts and a dog, a black and white border collie. She wags his tail immediately when she sees him.  
 _She’s been trained already_ , they say. _Look, she likes you._

  
Kieren felt his smile grow a little fixed on his face as he looks down at the dog licking his hand. He wants to walk away, clean the rough animal smell from his skin. More than anything he wants Soph to be here right now, making snide remarks and laughing in his ear.

  
He tries very hard to look happy for the staff, who still look wary. He wonders just how bad other PDS sufferer reactions had been. This, more than anything else was the tipping point for a lot of Risen. It’s government mandated though, so there’s little getting away from it. It still feels like a betrayal though and Kieren mutters a silent apology in his head as he pets the dog.

  
“Does she have a name?” he asks and the staff look a little agitated.

  
“Generally we leave that up to you."

 

Kieren can read between the lines. Does he want to buy into the illusion? Pretend that this is his daemon? He wonders how many Risen there are walking around with pets carrying their dead daemons names.

  
“Paris.”, he says after a moment. “That’s good enough.”

  
They nod and smile encouragingly and Kieren wants to break something.

  
That night Paris sleeps at the bottom of the bed, curled nose to tail and snuffling slightly. Kieren stares at her for a long-time, feeling anxiety crawling in the pit of his stomach. He’s seeing his parents for the first time tomorrow. If Soph were here she would be telling him not to freak out over nothing. _They’re your parents silly_ , she would say, _you worry too much_.

  
It’s a long time till morning.

  
Kieren can’t help but notice the way his parent’s eyes fall first on his face and then to the empty spot by his feet. Kieren doesn’t know how common the knowledge is about what happened to the daemons after the Rising. The look of horror in his mum’s eyes is quickly shuttered though so she must have had some idea, some warning. Her badger daemon, Cædmon rubs up against her leg in comfort and her hand scratches in between his dark ears absently.

  
Kieren has to look away and push down the sharp pain in the place between his ribs where his heart used to beat.

  
His dad’s wren Adhara flutters around his head, agitated even while his dad smiles and speaks in a carefully cheerful voice. If Soph were here then Cædmon would be carefully batting her over the head. Adhara would be perched nearby and singing out.

  
Now they just hover, keeping a slight distance from him. It’s not a rejection, Kieren knows that, but it feels like one. He wonders why Jem isn’t here. She would play off the awkwardness, punch him on the shoulder or hug him. His parents are keeping a careful distance, like he’s a bomb that’s about to go off and it makes Kieren inexplicably angry, makes him want to shout It’s still me! She’s gone but I’m still here!  
Before they leave he whistles for Paris, who had been sniffing around the corner. It’s as if a switch has been turned on in his dad who coos and laughs at the dog, careful not to touch her, even though he can, there’s nothing stopping him. The daemons are more reserved. They know something’s off. That Kieren is broken.

  
 _But hey, who cares right, as long as he looks the part._ he thinks to himself.

_As long as they can pretend his skin isn’t grey, his eyes aren’t pale, his daemon is right there by his side. We all know it’s a sham, but let’s keep pretending okay?_

He tries not to let the bitterness show in his face.

Kieren notices his mum smiling bravely at him and he returns it automatically. Kieren can pretend. And if that’s what they need, if that’s who they need him to be then it’s the least he can do. After what he’s done.

  
A little part of Kieren dies all over again when he sees Jem. It’s not so much the anger, because it wasn’t exactly unusual for Jem to be angry. They had their fights, the usual screaming matches that come from two teenagers growing up in a small house with one bathroom. The difference is that Jem had always had a reason before. It had never been just simply because of Kieren’s existence. Who or what Kieren was.  
When he was fourteen he had obsessed over a hopeless crush on Rob Morag from Chemistry. He had told Jem in a fit of teen angst one night and she had just hugged him and told him she didn’t give a fuck who he fancied as long as they weren’t a wanker.  
Now she could barely stand in the same room as him, radiating white-hot rage with every movement. Her daemon Canopus had settled on a shape last year, his dad had told him on the ride down. A wolverine. It looked almost docile next to Jem, moving toward Kieren in recognition before being snatched away by Jem and taken with her upstairs.

  
It was almost a relief to be around her though. Out of all the people since the Facility, Jem had been the only one who had looked at Kieren without pity.

  
Shirley comes, in a bustle of government leaflets and well-meaning advice, injecting the Nuerotriptyline with an almost brutal lack of squeamishness that Kieren has to admire. Her snake daemon curls around her wrist and looks Kieren steadily in the eye, blinking lazily. He finds it hard to look back.

  
“And how are you coping with your loss, Kieren?” she asks, half way through a long diatribe on affairs of the village.

  
The question is standard and he’s been hearing it from doctor’s for months but for a moment Kieren just stares at her. Then he clears his throat looking away.

  
“Um, fine, yeah. I’m sort of getting used to it, I suppose. “ he says awkwardly, avoiding anybody’s eyes.

  
“That sounds familiar.” His dad says, something unrecognisable in his voice.

  
Kieren realises he’s had this conversation before. When the news came back about Rick. He had said he was fine then too. It had been almost a mantra, _fine, fine, I’m just fine._ Right up until the end where he couldn’t get out of bed in the morning, could hardly bear to talk. _I’m fine, just a bit tired that’s all._

  
The look on his dad’s face shows him they are thinking the same thing.

  
“They said it would take some getting used to.” Shirley says carefully, eyes on Kieren’s face.

  
He nods.

  
 _It’s better not to leave the house just yet_ , she says before leaving. _Even with the makeup and the dog. Just to be on the safe side._

  
Kieren doesn’t know exactly what had happened in Roarton since the Rising. His parents dodge around the subject and Jem won’t talk to him at all. But he saw the graffiti on his way in, seen the fear in his mum’s eyes outside the church meeting. There’s a slogan spray-painted on the building at the end of the street. Kieren can see it from his bedroom window when he twitches back the curtain.

  
WHERE ARE THEIR SOULS? It reads in an angry jagged scrawl. WHERE ARE THEIR DAEMONS?

  
And below it the almost familiar KILL THE ROTTERS.

  
His paintings are still up on the wall. He can stand it for about half an hour before he has to take half of them down, stashing them under the bed so he doesn’t have to look any more. Soph had been good at sitting for pictures. She had been the first thing he had ever wanted to paint properly as a kid. He had been awful at the beginning, lines too thin, and proportions wildly off. Soph hadn’t ever teased him for it back then, looking over even the worst scribbles with pride.

  
When he was a kid she had changed every time he had needed a new visual reference, shifting fluidly from feather to fur. When she had fixed he had taken a long time painting a portrait to mark the occasion, spending hours trying to capture her likeness. Kieren had never been entirely happy with the result. Soph was too full of life and movement to be held down on paper.

  
Paris whines in the corner and Kieren tries very hard to not resent her.

  
The nightmares come for him almost the second his eyes close that night.

  
 _The supermarket shelves, cornflake packets and cans of soup flecked with little droplets of blood as Kieren sinks his teeth into the soft skin of her neck. The girl is there too, the monster girl with long hair and corpse skin and she and Kieren are gorging themselves, they’ve been so hungry, so starved and the girl twitching out her life blood beneath them is so warm, so very warm and they’ve been so cold for so long and where is she, why has she left me, where’s S-_

It’s Jem who wakes him the first night, unforgiving in her anger. She calls him a monster and it would be more believable if Canopus hadn’t been sitting sadly to her side, the calm rock to Jem’s static rage. When Kieran looks at him it’s not hatred he sees. Just a hollowed out sort of hurt.  
What about me? Jem asks. Kieren didn’t really know until now just how many people he had hurt when he died. His mum, dad, Jem, even Soph, growing sicker and sadder beside him each day, fading away before his eyes. She had tried to pull him out of it but in the end he dragged her down with him.

  
Maybe that’s why she hadn’t come back when he did. He was the one that had killed her after all.

  
Before Jem goes to bed she turns, half hidden in shadow and says, I _’m sorry about Soph, Kieren. We didn’t know…nobody was sure if that was a rumor or not. But I’m sorry. That’s fucked up._

  
She’s not wrong.

  
Ken Burton’s wife is shot like a dog in the street, her milky eyes turned up toward the night sky. For a moment it doesn’t seem real until Kieren realises it’s because there was no wisp of gold as her daemon dies alongside her. Just the dull shot echoing in the street, her body falling onto the wet pavement. Her husband’s sobs are very loud in the silence, all the twitching curtains looking out. Bill Macy stands like a soldier, shadow caught in a streetlamp, his Doberman daemon stiff and still beside him. No real dog could be as vicious, as cold and Kieren thinks, murderer, you murderer; Rick’s blood is on our hands.

Paris hates being cooped up inside the house almost as much as him. It’s not even a day after the blood is washed from the street outside before Kieren sneaks them out. Even with full makeup and his hoodie drawn up, Paris trotting happily beside him, he doesn’t relax until he’s clear of the centre of town. It feels good to be out, fucking amazing if he’s honest. He can’t feel the wind against his face like he used to but the view is the same. For the first time since he came back to Roarton he can breathe. Paris seems to love it to, breaking away from Kieren as soon as they’re out of the town, barking happily and rolling in the grass. She gets briefly distracted by chasing her own tail, twisting round frantically before finally collapsing and looking him with a betrayed expression. Kieren almost catches himself smiling before he remembers. He whistles and calls her to him just a little too sharply.

It takes very little time after stabbing Amy with a metal spike before deciding she may just be the most insane person he’s ever met. Or perhaps the best. Underneath all the flouncy, pretty skirts and long brown hair is a kind of fierce bravery that almost scares Kieren in its intensity. She has a small white and brown rabbit that pokes it’s head out of her jacket pocket who she affectionately refers to as “Shaun”.

“He’s not much of a replacement but what can I say? The idiot’s grown on me.” she says, grinning and stroking the fur behind his large plush ears with one finger. Kieren has to smile at the obvious affection on her face.

He’s smiles more in the first two hours of meeting Amy than he has done for the last two months.

He knows who she is of course, recognises her from his nightmares and flashbacks. She had seemed almost like a demon to him for so long, his fellow monster, ripping up people right there beside him.

The Amy he’s seeing now couldn’t be more different, half in love with the world and everything in it.

They go to a fair and it’s fun until just about everything goes wrong. When he stumbles down the road, shouts behind him and Paris yapping at his feet, it’s with the dead girl still in his head.

She always is really, if he’s honest. No matter what he does she’s always there in the background. Je feels her eyes on her sometimes, looking at him resentfully.

Kieren wonders who else stands with her sometimes.

All the people he hurt when he was drowning in his own fucked up head, all the people he killed in the Rising. Rick. Soph.

 

The next time he sees Amy her face is clear of makeup, and Shaun is nowhere to be seen.

“Decided he’d probably be happier at home tonight.” she says and Kieren thinks she might just be the bravest person he’s ever met. It almost makes Kieren want to laugh at the look on his parent’s faces. So long pretending to eat, pretending to smile, pretending his blood still pumped around his body and he hadn’t been buried six feet under. And then Amy comes in like a hurricane and no one can pretend anymore.

When she tells him how she died he understands a little better. This isn’t some medicated sham of real life for her: this is the best she’s had so far. Her second chance.

“The only thing I miss is him really.” she says when they’re alone.

Kieren doesn’t need to ask who she’s talking about. He just nods and she smiles at some distant memory.

“He was in a pretty bad way by the end though, just like me. I only wish he could be here to see how happy I am now.” she says and she rubs her shoulder absently. “You know we thought for ages that he would end up as a bird when we were little. He loved to fly. And then I got sick and you know, I think he settled as a panther just to give me something to hold on to. So he could protect me, not that he really could. He was gorgeous Kieran Walker. You should have seen him. You know I think he would have liked you?”

She smiles at him but Kieren can see the tightness at the edges of her eyes.

“Why didn’t they come back when we did?” he blurts out and the question feels ripped out of him. It’s been bubbling under the surface of his mind for too long.

  
His voice is rough and a little too hoarse. “Where did they go Amy?”

She just looks at him, shaking her head slightly.

“I don’t know Kieren. Maybe they went where we were meant to.” she says sadly and Kieren’s breath catches in his throat.

“What was her name?” she asks abruptly.

Kieren doesn’t have the time to ask before the door swings open and it’s Jem in all her righteous anger. And then she tells him about Rick and it’s all he can do not to have his knees buckle under him.

They leave in a rush, Kieren too angry to stay and navigate any more careful conversations with his mum and dad. It’s not far to the pub but it feels far too long, because   _Rick was here, Rick had come back and how long had Kieren wished for this_?

It’s not until they’re inside with the cold hard stares of the other drinkers that Kieren realises Paris was still back in the house.

They must look suicidal, wandering into the pub full of HVF members without daemons. Amy isn’t even wearing make up. For a second Kieran wanders if he’s led her into a death trap. Then the back door opens and all he can think is _Rick, Christ, You’re really here_.

And then Kieren saw the side of his face and he could see was the stitches they had used to tie back together his shattered body. Ever since getting the news Kieren had played what had happened over and over again in his mind, imagining all the different ways Rick could have died. The physical evidence in front of him was something altogether different.

For a moment he’s caught glancing at Rick’s neck where Andraste would have been curled up. There is nothing there, of course she isn’t there but Kieren still feels shocked. It’s almost worse than the scars. There's a smart, sleek German Shepherd standing, ears pricked, by Rick’s feet.

They are close enough to touch, close enough to kiss when Rick’s sticks out his hand to shake, like Kieren’s some footie- loving mate down at the pub. Like Kieren is a stranger. Of all the ways Kieren had played this out in his head, this isn’t one.

They sit down with Gary who’s just as much of a bastard as Kieren remembers. Rick drinks beer even though he shouldn’t and laughs when Gary calls Amy a lesbian, his new dog sitting so smartly at his side. And Kieren can just watch and think what did they do to you? What are you doing to yourself?

Rick almost looks like a normal bloke, a soldier, one of the lads. But everyone can see the scars and Kieren wonders how much longer Bill Macy can keep this charade up for.

There’s so much Kieren wants to ask, wants to say. But Rick looks right through him.

 

When they talk in the car it’s ugly and confused. Rick didn’t get his letters and Kieren never did get his goodbye and Kieren can’t help but think that Bill might have had a hand in that. There are too many things lingering between them; the war, Rick’s death, Kieren’s suicide. Too many raw wounds. But it’s okay, even if they do argue, even if it hurts and Bill Macy hates Kieren’s guts.

They have time now. Kieren has a second chance, a chance to make things right. It might take a while but for now Rick is here and that’s all Kieren really ever wanted.

When the radio calls him away Rick bounds after his dad just as his dog jumps to his call. The dog really is a perfect daemon for a soldier, the sort of daemon Bill Macy wanted, picked out for his son. A weapon of a daemon. Kieren still remembers the arguments that had broken out when Rick’s Andraste had settled in her mouse form. The bruises on Rick’s face the next day at school. Soph had been delighted though, rolling and playing with Andraste’s tiny form, as gentle as Kieren had ever seen her.

 

Kieren saves the PDS sufferer and the little girl in the end, but it’s a close run thing. He hopes desperately that they’ll be ok, that the medication will work with a minimum of pain. He hadn’t ever seen a child at the detention centre. He hopes to God it’s because they were taken somewhere better.

He gets home in the early hours of the morning, greeted by Paris who licks his hand excitedly at the door. Jem is sleeping upstairs, Canopus curled around her protectively and she looks so much like the kid Kieren remembers that it almost hurts. Then she’s snapping awake, gun in her hand and pointed at Kieren in a matter of seconds. When did his little sister start sleeping with a gun? Kieren wonders.

She tells him she was going to kill him but didn’t and all Kieren doesn’t know what to say. There was a time not so long ago it seems like that they were arguing over homework and telly privileges.

She still offers to go with him to see Lisa’s parents though, so maybe there’s hope for them yet. She even scratches Paris behind the ears, helping Kieren feed her before they go.

Kieren had prepared himself but it was it’s still awful. The look of hope on their faces, the desperately sad flyer with Lisa ‘s smiling face. Her mum’s dove daemon feathers are all twisted, her dad’s guinea pig far too thin. These people are drowning and it’s Kieren who did this. If it wasn’t for Jem sitting beside him Kieren thinks he wouldn’t have been able to be there at all.

She tells him she thought he was brave as they walk away and despite everything Kieren feels as if a weight he didn’t know he’d been carrying has been lifted off his chest. He still killed people but for now Jem’s beside him, hair caught by the wind and smiling. Canopus trots beside them, occasionally nipping playfully at Jem’s shoes. Paris is warm as she brushes against his leg. For now these things are all Kieran needs.

Amy’s waiting for the train at the station, fully made up with a suitcase to one side. Shaun is sitting on her lap, eyes closed as she strokes him absentmindedly. Kieren’s only known her for a day really but it feels like much more than that. It’s still a surprise when he realises just how much he’s going to miss her though.

She talks about the ULA, how there’s a place for people like them, but not here.

He wants to say _stay here_. He wants to say _I’ll come too, just let me grab my stuff_. He thinks that Amy knows the reason he’s staying really.

“You look after yourself Kieren Walker.“ she tells him and hugs him tight.

Before she gets on the train she stops and gives him one last look.

“You never did tell me her name you know.” She says softly, head tilted to one said.

Kieren swallows past the lump in his throat.

“Sophrosyne.” He says at last. “Soph. Her name was Soph.”

It’s the first time he’s said it out loud. It’s a good place for it. The sun is bright and Jem had smiled at him. Amy might be leaving but he doesn’t think forever. Rick is back. It’s a good place to say it.

“That’s a pretty name.” Amy says and Kieren may have just met her yesterday but already he’s a little bit in love.

She grins at him, beautiful and brave and he smiles back. He keeps on smiling even after he waves her off, even on the long walk back. He stops for a little while to throw sticks for Paris who looks so absurdly happy Kieren has to laugh. She’s not Soph, never will be but that’s not her fault. She’s a good dog.

For the first time in a long while things might be ok. It will take a while but people can change. Roarton will get better, Kieren knows. It’ll just take a while.

When he first sees the body slumped over in his driveway he doesn’t run right away. It’s obvious nearly immediately that it’s Rick and that he isn’t moving but Kieren’s thoughts have slowed to treacle, his legs caught in slow motion.

Maybe he’s sleeping. Maybe he’s messing with Kieren, some weird stupid joke Kieren doesn’t get. Then all at once he’s running, seeing it almost as if from far away, as he turns Rick over and - _he’s not sleeping rick wake up why aren’t you moving –_

  
There is a knife handle coming out the back of his head. It looks like a stage prop. Kieren hears a strange choking wet noise, like some animal in pain, and at first he thinks it’s Paris before he realizes it’s coming from him and – _Jesus rick please, get up please don’t do this to me again don’t-_

His hands are shaking so hard he can barely hold Rick against him and there’s something wet on his face. He looks up for help but all the curtains are closed. No one wants to see this. Paris is whining beside him. He looks down at Rick’s face and thinks _there was so much we were going to talk about. I thought we had so much more time._

He’s not quite aware of what happens next only that he whispers into Rick’s ear before pulling the knife out of his head and getting up slowly. Everything he does is disconnected somehow, like he’s not really there at all. Like it’s not really happening at all.

He passes Jem as he goes and she is out of breath and frantic, looking at him with wide eyes. The knife is still held in his hand and the blood on it is not red but Kieren might change that before the day is over.

Bill Macy is very calm in his insanity, patiently explaining how he hasn’t just murdered his son in cold blood. His dog daemon beside him growls and twitches, foam dripping from its mouth, eyes rolling in it’s head. If Kieren couldn’t still feel the phantom touch of Rick’s dead body in his arms then maybe he would have felt sorry for him, this sad crazy child killer.

Kieren isn’t the one who kills him though in the end. By the time they hear the shot outside Bill Macy is lying dead on the ground, his daemon already nothing but a few lingering golden motes in the air.

A part of Kieren wishes he’d had the pleasure. Another part of him is staring into that same old abyss, the yawning darkness beginning to tingle at the back of his mind. He can feel the familiar urge to jump off the edge.

He goes to the cave. Their names are still up there on the wall and wasn’t this the exact same place where he sat last time, holding the razor oh-so-carefully? Had Soph asked him not to do it, right before the end?

It had been so hard to hear anything by the end. She had tried to hold on a little harder than him, tried to snap him out of it. Maybe she had been just as tired of fighting it in the end. They had both been just so tired.

 _REN + RICK 4 EVER_ , the wall reads.

That was a sick joke. Who gets a second chance at something like this and still fucks everything up? Kieren had been an idiot to think that the cycle could ever have been broken. Maybe if he had seen that sooner he could have stopped this. Maybe if he had stayed away from Rick. Maybe if he had never been his friend at all.

He had run his hand through her fur as he died. It had been sticky with blood but neither of them had cared.

 _I’m so sorry it ended up like this_ , she had whispered into his ear at the end. _But at least it’s all over now. We don’t have to hurt anymore._

“I’m sorry too.” He whispers in the silence of the cave. “I fucked up again, Soph. I really tried not to but I did.”

The words hang, unanswered, in the air.

His mum is the one to find him, Caedmon snuffling at Kieren’s knee, his white and black fur silver in the dark.

They talk and when he cries it’s like finally being able to breath. He never let anyone help the first time, not even Soph. It’s not bad to need help, Kieren realises now. This time can be different. He can make it different.

When they get home his dad is waiting, understanding and eager to smooth things over. Kieren can’t have that anymore though, can’t live like that anymore so he pushes and keeps pushing till everything comes out and is at last lying out for them both to see. No more lying or smiling when you feel like screaming.

No more _fine, I’m fine._

They lived that way for too long, even before the Rising, before the suicide, before Rick died for the first time. No more. 

That night Kieren lets Paris sleep on the bed beside him, rubs one hand behind her ears to hear her snuffle. He wakes up once, face wet with tears, still hearing the sound of the knife coming out of Rick’s skull. Paris is there though, licking his face until he pushes her away, laughing slightly. He goes to sleep quickly after that, his hands buried in her warm fur.

His next dream is of sunlight, a train and Sophrosyne.


	2. Chapter 2

Things get better, little by little. Kieren gets a job, goes for long walks with Paris, writes letters to Amy and watches bad movies with Jem. There is less and less graffiti up on the walls. It’s safe to go out at night now, safe to walk into the bar. At one point he wakes up in the morning and doesn’t have to talk himself into getting up.

Things get better until all at once they get so much worse. 

There have been attacks; ‘incidents’ as the news call them, all over the country. The first time had been like some horrible one off, a group of PDS going rabid in a community center in Kent. They had watched it on the news silently, before his dad had switched it off abruptly. 

Then the backlash had begun, the Victus politicians giving speeches littered with useful buzzwords. “Post-human”. “The deceased among us”. 

Kieren begins to think about Europe. He begins looking up information on how to keep dogs in a city. 

He’s made a habit of talking to Rick about stuff like this. He can do it now, stand next to the neat grave without feeling like running. 

He’s there, Paris sitting patiently by his side when he sees Amy again. She looks lovely of course, happy and brighter somehow. Her face is bare of makeup and Shaun the rabbit is noticeably absent. Kieren can’t stop from grinning as she talks about everything and nothing. He had almost forgotten how infectious her enthusiasm is, how good it feels just to be around her. It’s almost enough to make him agree when she tells him not to leave. 

The only jarring moment is when she mentions the Undead Prophet. There’s something Kieren doesn’t like about the look on her face, the almost reverent expression. But the thought is just a fleeting one, lost in the giddiness of having her back. 

He meets Simon Monroe for the first time the next day and very quickly decides he’s one of the most pretentious twats he’s ever met. He’s infuriatingly smug, skin grey and eyes pale. He recites poetry off by heart and Kieren wonders if anyone who didn’t sound as deep voiced and Irish could get away with it sounding as infuriatingly good as it does. 

He lifts an eyebrow at Paris and Kieren bristles at the look on his face. There is no animal nosing around Simon’s feet. He talks about the ULA with the smooth, charismatic conviction of a born again Christian. Amy looks at him like he’s some sort of holy man. It makes Kieren’s hackles rise. He wonders what Simon’s daemon was. Some sort of cat he decides, arrogant and proud. Simon almost looks as though he hadn’t ever had one, as though he was used to walking alone. 

They come into the bar that night faces bare and daemon-less, Simon looking as if he already owned the place. There’s something exciting, interesting about seeing someone refuse to bow down, Kieren has to admit. Something that wakes up a little part of him he thought had died along with Rick. Soph had always teased him about liking the sarcastic bastards and maybe she was still right. 

When Kieren finally snaps and pushes Gary he could almost blame Simon’s steady eyes on him. The way he almost seemed to say you’re okay with this? With how they treat us? 

It feels dangerously good to finally hit back. To stop apologizing for the way he was to sad bastards like Gary. Gary’s daemon, a large rangy weasel, bares her teeth in a snarl at Simon who had stepped in before Kieren even knew what was happening. 

When he leaves the keys on the bar top it feels like a victory. He starts packing the minute he gets home. He’s had enough of this town. Enough of trying so very hard to convince people to treat him as a person. Enough of the ghosts on every street corner. 

Paris whines in confusion at his frantic but Kieren just laughs and scratches her behind the ears. 

“Paris it is I guess.” He says and her ears perk up. “ Maybe I should think about getting you a new name.” 

Kieran goes to the woods against his better judgement. He leaves Paris in his room, trying not to feel guilty when she whines and looks at him accusingly. There is a moment where he thinks about going into the bathroom, pulling the towel from the mirror and wiping the foundation from his skin.  
He leaves with it still on.

Sometimes Kieren wonders whether Soph would even recognize him if she saw him now. Even with the makeup on he’s like some strange artificial copy of himself. On a rare trip to London, back when Jem had only come up to his waist, they had visited the Natural History Museum. Jem had been ridiculously excited about the dinosaurs. She had been rattling them off by heart beside him, her daemon flitting around her head in the form of a hummingbird. Kieren had been grinning at her when he had seen the deer. Small and delicate with large startled eyes, held permanently open in a look of shock; it had stood on a small platform, feet wired to the ground.

She could almost be alive, Soph had said in his ear and he could feel her fur bristling against his neck. Kieren had looked at the deer’s muscles below its sleek fur, poised to run, the way her ears were held aloft in alarm. If he blinked he could almost imagine the rise and fall of her breathing.

How do they make them look so real? He had wondered aloud and Jem had laughed.

Because it is real stupid, it’s just dead. she had said and had gone on to describe in the great detail that only six year olds can manage, the way the body was skinned, the eyes replaced with shiny glass. By the time she had finished talking Kieren had known more about taxidermy than he had ever frankly wanted to and Soph had been hiding, tucked up his sleeve as a mouse. When Jem had finally been distracted by the promise of ice cream Soph had said, promise you’ll never have me stuffed ok? And Kieren had laughed.

Didn’t seem quite so funny now.

The gathering in the woods was loud and raucous with the faint tinge of desperation Kieren remembers from school parties. Kieren found Amy stumbling through the crowd and she was as much of a live wire as ever, energy crackling in the air around her, there was something there that was missing. His heart sinks when she talks about Simon because of all the people for brave, beautiful Amy to set her hopes on, Simon is possibly the worst choice.

When Simon leans in close, outside in the dark Kieren knows that for a fact. 

It’s not as if he hadn’t seen it coming to a certain extent. Kieren may not have had massive experience with this but he can recognise the way Simon looks at him sometimes, can feel the dark sweep of Simon’s eyes on the back of his neck. And yeah, Kieren would be lying if he said he didn’t feel… Well something anyway.

Because the most difficult thing is he likes Simon really. He’s arrogant and dangerously magnetic and at times reminds Kieren of the flint eyed cult leaders you saw on TV running communes in the backwoods of America. But Kieren can’t help but like the way Simon smiles when he lets his guard down, his wry sense of humour. The way he doesn’t back down, not even for a second.

There’s a prickle of heat running up his spine that he had thought had died along with Rick. Soph had always said he had a thing for stubborn bastards. Kieren wonders what she’d say about Simon.

Predictably things go to hell the next day. They go to the hospital and Kieren is prickly with guilt over Amy. Everything seemed a little simpler in the dark, with Simon beside him but it’s early morning now and all the reasons why this is a terrible idea have lined themselves up in Kieren’s mind. He vaguely wants someone to talk to but Jem has been acting weirdly and he can’t tell Amy. He wants more than anything to hear Soph; calling him he’s an idiot and telling him what to do next.

Maybe Kieran's gone too deep in this already but when Simon tells him I told you, I don't lead people on Kieran believes him.

Kieran has seen Simon talking about undead rights, seen the way his eyes light up and tone change when he's giving the carefully thought out sound bites. Kieran had always thought it was to some extent a show, a rehearsed sort of rage. The look on Simons face when he sees the cage is enough to convince him that while the lines might be from the Undead Prophet the rage is real. Simon is underneath all the sarcasm and raised eyebrows angry. It makes Kieren wonder not for the first time what form his daemon took. Kieren could see Simon with a bird, something with sharp beak and talons and wings that cracked at the air.

There's a strange disappointment in his eyes when they leave, a sort of dismissal when he looks at Kieren. They snap at each other and by the time Kieren leaves he is shaking, Paris trotting to keep up with his broad paces.

Simon doesn't understand Roarton, wasn't here when there were public executions on the street. Things have changed now, slowly but only because people kept their heads down and took their time.

Have they really though? Soph says in his head. At least you never had to wear a vest before. You can't even leave the town. How much good has keeping your head down really done for you?

Kieren thinks about Rick, trying so hard to be normal, to be the son his dad wanted. All it had given him was a knife in the back of his head.

He keeps walking even when night starts to draw in, not ready to go home. There's something restless moving under his skin, his thoughts jostling together, going round in circles around his head.

He can't stop seeing the cage, the bored look in the nurses eyes as she watches a man bleed in front of her. The way Simon had looked at him after.

He hears the screams and begins to run without thinking. The scene at the garage is one wrong move away from becoming a grisly headline in tomorrow's newspaper. He can hear the girl inside, hear the shuffling and the screech of some kind of animal in pain or fear and makes a split second decision.

The truck pulls away when its over, stupid, unfortunate Freddie Preston hog-tied in the back. Kieren walks away before he does something he’ll regret. 

Before he knows it he's running, out onto the dark streets, watching the curtains twitch as he goes by. The anger is coiling in his muscles, roaring in his ears. The doctor’s office and Freddie and the stupid orange vests are swimming through his mind and, like always, Rick, Rick who had written him postcards and called him Ren. 

Kieran’s contact lenses are itching and there's a long thin ache behind his temples. He reaches up to rub his forehead and his fingers come away smeared in foundation.

He thinks about the deer, posed and ready to run except it never could it was dead, dead and everyone knew, the deer staring out blindly through pretty glass eyes, nothing but wire and plaster below the skin.

When Simon opens the door Kieran kisses him before he can say anything. He lets all the anger and frustration pour out into the kiss, all the wanting and need. It wasn't particularly skilful as kisses go but it felt like shouting, like finally taking a full breath.

There is a brief moment where Simon didn't react and Kieren though he had misjudged something. Then his hands are on Kieran’s face, holding him like he was going to disappear. Paris whines and scratches at Kieren's leg and all Kieren can do is grin into the kiss.

Taking Simon to meet his parents is possibly the most stupid and entertaining thing Kieren has ever done. It would almost be funny just how nervous Simon is, barely recognizable in makeup and contacts, if it wasn’t so bloody endearing. However on edge Kieren is about the idea Simon seems ten times worse, pulling at his clothes nervously. 

He relaxes briefly when Kieren kisses him, muscles tense under his touch. It makes Kieren feel ridiculously light, catching himself smiling to himself like an idiot for no reason. Because if there was one thing he hadn’t expected about Simon it was just how awkwardly sweet he could be under the brooding, how eager to make Kieren happy.

His mum and dad seem only a little wary at Simon and Kieren wonders what they would think if they saw how he usually looked, bare faced and scowling. He could almost be alive in this light, all warm skin and brown eyes. If it wasn’t for the lack of a daemon you could make that mistake.  
Kieren had asked him whether he had ever had a Substitute in a fit of curiosity but Simon had avoided answering. Kieren knew that there was a Undead Prophet argument about the subject, had heard the videos talking about how Substitutes were a betrayal and a mockery. And the darker announcements, Kieren had heard those too, saying that the undead were better without their daemons, stronger, unencumbered. That this was how people were meant to be.  
Kieren wasn’t sure whether Simon had spared him the lecture for Kieran’s sake or his own. Perhaps there were some parts of the Undead Prophet’s new scripture even Simon didn’t accept.

Jem turns up halfway through, dark bags under her eyes, shoulder to shoulder with Gary. His weasel daemon is all over her wolverine, Canopus, snuffling into the top of its head, whining for his attention. Jem looks like something is eating her up from the inside, Canopus dead eyed and listless at her feet. Kieren wants to get her away from Gary, get her away somewhere safe and talk to her but the look in her eyes is like a cornered animal ready to bite.

The rest of the visit goes just about as badly as possible.

Afterwards, still shaking with anger, he wipes away the makeup and pulls out the contacts, seeing the grey skin uncovered little by little. There’s nothing covering the mirror now and for the first time in a long while he sees his eyes, pale and intent staring back at him. 

When he’s done, his skin bare and grey he turns to Simon, who is looking at him with a strangely vulnerable expression. As if Simon was the one laying himself out and open. There’s a strange sort of calm spreading over Kieren know, after the anger, a kind of peace. He stands up and kisses Simon again, gently and Simon’s hands come up to smooth over his skin, thumbs brushing over the rise of his cheekbones.

“Morrigan.” Simon says when they draw apart. The word sounds as if it hasn’t been said in a long time. There is something like rust at the edges of Simon’s voice. “That was her name.”

Kieren understands. Simon is returning the favor. They are each letting down their guard here. He kisses Simon again, hoping it says the things Kieren is too clumsy, too awkward to speak aloud.

The next morning Jem gets up and leaves when he walks in with his face bare, Canopus snarling at her heels as she stalks off. His mum and dad can’t look him in the face and Kieren feels a sliver of anger work its way into his stomach. He had thought it was getting better between them but maybe that had just been him trying to pretend. Maybe they had forgotten what he actually was.

The anger only grows at the ridiculous trial they’ve set up in the town hall, at three judges sitting stony faced, their daemons staring him down across the room. He’s known all of them since he was a kid, used to run with Soph across their lawns and say hi to them as he went past on the street.

There’s no recognition in their eyes and Kieren realizes it’s because to them he’s not really Kieren Walker at all, the kid they used to see around the place. Just another rotter, one pill away from rabid.

They’ve already decided the verdict, Kieren can see it in their eyes long before they say it. He wasn’t the one who let the rabids out of the cage but at this point they don’t really care. They need a scapegoat and Simon isn’t here so Kieren will have to do. Kieren of a month ago, maybe even of two days ago would have tried to talk it out, would have put on makeup this morning and shown up here ready to apologize for whatever they had decided he was guilty of. Right now though Kieren wants to scream, want to hit and kick. He can almost feel Soph at his feet; feel her bristled fur and the scratch of her claws against the wooden floor.

They take him home, Dean nervously keeping pace like some kind of police escort, his frog hopping to keep up.

He’s too angry to feel anything but resentment at his dad, at the way he so obviously thinks that Kieren is lying. He tries to get through to him but he can tell his dad has already made up his mind to place his faith in a system that is so obviously flawed. Adhara fluffs up her feathers on his dad’s neck and won’t meet his eyes. 

Later, when they leave, he sneaks out. Paris tries to follow him out the door and whines when he tries to shut it behind him. Kieren looks at her for a moment, sighs and lets her out. She pads along beside him as he makes his way to the bungalow. The PDS girl at the door looks down at her with something like disgust as she opens the door. She doesn’t know where Simon is and Kieren tries not to snap at her. 

He isn’t sure what he’s looking for really, proof that Simon is behind the deaths, some sign to where he’s gone. 

He stashes the pills in his pocket before Amy comes in, without considering the implications. Amy looks strange, holding herself together at the seams and Kieren wants to hug her but the guilt about Simon pushes at the back of his mind. 

In retrospect he really should have guessed she knew about it all along. Amy always seems to be one step ahead of him. He loves her for it. It almost seems like she’s about to say something to him as he leaves but Kieren is already thinking about the pills in his pocket and doesn’t ask her what’s wrong.

He thinks about that moment later. All the different ways it could have gone. 

The pills are very small and bright blue and for a moment all Kieren can do is look, hearing the world slow down around him. Part of him, the part that hears the way Simon talks about the Undead Prophet and the Rising, has always suspected this. Another part, the part that watched Simon flustered and awkward on the way to his parents house, the part that remembers how it feels to kiss him….that part is reeling. 

Because he can see it in his head, Simon or God even Amy, losing control, ripping and killing until someone put a bullet in their heads. Had Simon given this to the boy in school who had almost killed Jem? 

Had everything Simon said been a lie? When he had kissed Kieren, smiled at him, had that been a lie too? 

They lock the door to his room when he gets home but Kieren doesn't fully panic until he sees Gary, something twisted about his face. Kieren struggles but Gary is larger and vicious, weasel leaping up to snap at Kieren’s outstretched arm. There's a growl behind him and Paris is leaping forward, teeth bared. Gary kicks her, hard, boot connecting with her ribs and she falls back yelping. Kieren swears and turns to fight but he's not fast enough.

There's a sick sort of falling sensation in his stomach when Gary pulls out the pills. Kieren can read the smug look of triumph in Gary's eyes what his plan is. Paris whimpers in the corner and Kieren can't tell how badly hurt she is, can only glare at Gary ripping down the pictures on the wall and wish him a world of pain.

Paris tries to follow them out the house, stumbling as she tries to stand but Gary shuts the door as he drags Kieren out. The last thing Kieren hears bride they leave the house is the sound of her scratching at the door.

They drive to the countryside and from far away Kieren can hear the sound of the beating of the bounds, hear Daemons howling along with the racket. Somewhere there is his family and Kieren has had these nightmares before where he becomes that thing again and tears them apart.

Gary has him by the neck and Kieren thinks of the stuffed deer, frozen and trapped and unable to run.

Kieren staggers out across the wet grass and he almost hopes someone will shoot him quickly, before he hurts anyone else. He thinks about the witch hunt afterward, wonders who they’ll go after next. Simon, wherever the hell he was. Amy? 

He hopes Jem doesn’t see him like this. If he can only get himself to the Nuerotriptyline in time he might have a chance. His mind is already fading away at the edges. He catches sight of a flash of red fur at the corner of his vision and almost calls out her name before he remembers. He wonders if Soph will be the last thing he ever sees. Hallucination or not, it would be nice. 

He sees it again as he’s desperately trying to tie himself to the grill above the grave, hear a soft growl behind him but he can’t turn, doesn’t have the time. He can hear people coming closer and there is something acrid rushing up his throat-

What happens next is strange and distorted as Kieren fights to stay above the rising tide of static in his brain. He sees his dad moving towards him. His mouth opens and closes but Kieren cant hear over the rushing sound in his ears. A crack sounds out like a thunder strike through the air but there is a body against his, pushing him down to the ground. Simon’s face appears above him looking frantic, eyes widened, saying something but all Kieren can think is just how glad he is that Simon’s there. 

He’s gaining back control now, pushing through the fog, little by little but it’s exhausting. He can feel warm fur brush against his cheek and for a moment his heart contracts and he think Soph. When he turns to look it’s Canopus, Jem kneeling down in the grass beside him. 

His head clears in degrees as Simon helps him up and they make it to the surgery. Simon holds his arm on the way as if he’s scared Kieren will fall if he lets go, looking at him with an emotion Kieren cant understand. They don’t talk much, Kieren still holding himself together tightly. Kieren doesn’t get a chance to find out where the hell he’s been before Philip staggers in, eyes dark and wide and face deathly white, Amy in his arms. 

When Amy dies it’s almost peaceful. One minute she’s laughing, smiling at him and the next she’s gone. Philip’s rabbit daemon is nudging at Amy’s neck, trying to wake her up, Philip sobbing quietly next to her. 

Kieren can’t think, it doesn’t even seem real because it isn’t fair; Amy isn’t supposed to die like this, bleeding out in a room that smells of blood and disinfectant. 

Philip won’t let go of the small stuffed tiger at the funeral. It’s a nice day for it, everyone dressed in bright colours that clash horribly with the expressions on their faces. Amy would have rolled her eyes if she was here. Philip won’t let go of the small stuffed tiger. 

Kieren wonders if it had reminded Amy of her daemon. 

As he leaves he stops by Philip and thinks about saying something. Before he has the chance Philip turns to him, red eyed.

“There was something else there when it happened.” He says and Kieren feels a trickle of something cold down his back. 

“What’d you mean?” He half whispers, matching Philips hushed tone.

“When Amy…when Ms. Martin got out that knife.” Philip says, stumbling a little at Amy’s name. “I didn’t mention it after because…because of everything. But there was something in the trees, I saw it for a second. I heard it growling when Amy was…when the knife went in.” 

Kieren doesn’t know what to say, what to think. An idea is forming in the back of his mind but it’s too much, here in front of Amy’s grave, too large. Too much to hope so he just puts a hand on Philip’s shoulder and tells him not to stay out too long. 

 

Epilogue

It’s not until nearly a month after the funeral that Kieren stays a full night at the bungalow. Amy had left it to Simon in her will and it hurts coming back, seeing traces of her around every corner. It must feel even stranger for Simon living here among all the ghosts. Simon looks worried at the way Kieren’s eyes linger a little too long at the door to Amy’s room. Kieren kisses him to wipe the frown lines away, soft and sure. Simon presses back with the same old hesitation, as if he’s never really sure that Kieren isn’t joking, won’t pull away. 

Kieren wonders if maybe he kisses Simon enough, Simon will stop looking so surprised by it. He intends to enjoy trying anyway. 

Later when they’re lying still half tangled in bed together, Simon’s hand curled around his hip and ankles brushing Kieren tells him what Philip had said at the funeral. Simon doesn’t reply for a long time, thumb brushing distractingly over Kieren’s skin. 

“You know for a long time I thought I deserved it in some way.” Simon says and Kieren holds his breath and stays silent. 

“I thought that it was a punishment in some way. I always lashed out at her you see when I was alive. We hated each other at times I think. So when she didn’t come back I thought maybe it made sense.” 

Simon’s voice is a rasp and he isn’t really looking at Kieren anymore, eyes lost in some memory from long ago. Kieren reaches ut and tangles his fingers in Simons and squeezes gently to pull him back. 

“Do you think this means they’ll come back along with everything else?” Simon asks and it’s the question that’s been lingering in Kieren’s mind ever since they learnt about the way Amy’s heart had begun to beat in the moment before it stopped forever. Kieren had woken up yesterday cold and had stayed shivering in bed for another hour, feeling the hairs on his skin prickle. It’s happening slowly, almost too slow to notice but it’s happening. 

“I don’t know.” Kieren says softly. Simon doesn’t look disappointed at the answer, just nodding slowly, eyes distant. 

“You know you’ve never told me what form she took?” Kieren says after a moment. Simon grins, that stupidly smug smile that never fails to send a prickle of heat into Kieren’s stomach. 

“No?” Simon teases, tilting his head toward Kieren’s.

“Wolf?” Kieren guesses. Simon smirks and shakes his head and Kieren narrows his eyes. 

“Some sort of cat?” he tries again. “ A raven?”

“You have a strange opinion of me Kieren Walker.” Simon says and yes, okay that might be true. A little part of Kieren might never get over seeing Simon as some strange otherworldly oracle, no matter how many awkward visits to his parents house or even after seeing just how bad he is at losing in Monopoly. 

“What was she then?” He asks, raising his eyebrows and nudging Simon’s leg with his foot

There is a brief pause during which Simon leans over to kiss him and captures Kieren’s foot in his hand and rubbing circles over the arch with one thumb. 

“Hedgehog.” Simon says at last when they draw apart. 

For a moment Kieren cant quite process that, still a little drunk on the kiss. He blinks and smiles crookedly at Simon who is watching him carefully. 

“You look surprised.” Simon says and maybe he’s right. But really it makes sense when Kieren thinks about it, Simon with his too large coats pulled up against the wind and his biting sarcasm. There were lots of ways to put on a suit of armour and Simon knew every one of them. Except maybe, for some reason Kieren didn’t quite understand, when it came to him. 

“I admit I was expecting something…I dunno...more threatening.” He says though, for the amused expression on Simon’s face.

“Rich words coming from someone’s who’s daemon took the form of a panda.” Simon says incredulously and Kieren grins.

“Red panda.” He corrects. “And if Soph were here she would bite you for that.” 

She probably wouldn’t, Kieren knows. He has a feeling Soph would be just as stupid about Simon as Kieren is. 

Maybe he would find out someday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this turned out to be much longer than I thought but it's over! I spent a long time obsessing over what daemons they would all have and I'm still not entirely happy with the choice but oh well. Hope you liked this and thank you for all the positive feedback! Any and all response is so amazing and appreciated so thank you.


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